


With

by idiosyncraticWordsmith (literaryAspirant)



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Guardians Being Domestic, M/M, The Last City, city fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22957489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryAspirant/pseuds/idiosyncraticWordsmith
Summary: "I'll go with you" can mean a lot of things. But it is so much more than any of those things alone.
Relationships: Max Redblood/Paradox-9
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	With

“I’ll go with you.”

It was the end of the week. Market day. The farmer’s syndicates chose the end of the week for produce to go to market since it was when most people were available. There was plenty of work to be done in the City, of course, but there was also plenty of leisure to enjoy—that being said, there was something about the end of the calendar week that made human beings especially glad to amble around.

There were stalls all up and down the streets of the Peregrine District’s market quarter. Crowds of people made their way around, and street performers played instruments and sang songs, new and old, into the atmosphere.

Max enjoyed market day. He couldn’t spend too much time out and about, especially during the summer when the Sun shined down and risked burning his sensitive skin, but the allure of people, music, and food was too much. It was pleasant enough that he could more easily ignore the annoying advertisements for the factions that sponsored the market.

But even more enjoyable than all of that was the Exo who went to market with him.

* * *

“I’ll go with you.”

It was community kitchen day. Specifically, Max’s shift. Everyone took a turn in their ward’s kitchen; it was a cultural cornerstone of the City, to help feed others. Food was somewhat difficult to gather and moreso to prepare but many hands made light work, and Max liked the time in the kitchen. His doctor recommended it for his muscle condition to help counteract the atrophy; plenty of moving to do in a kitchen.

And the smiling faces of his neighbors lifted his heart. Entire families, young and old, coming in, sharing tables with their fellows, chatting with him, catching up, asking about his work, about his friends.

It wasn’t Guardian work. But his Exo companion was there, anyway. He was bad at talking to people, Max could never deny that. But he made the effort. And it earned him a lot of friends in Peregrine District.

* * *

“I’ll go with you.”

It was weeks after the Red War. The Legion had been soundly evicted and their fortifications had been ripped apart and taken away, but the City was still in need of proper rebuilding now. The losses were many. Peregrine District was hit especially hard; the houseless outnumbered the house, but they all had their home so long as they were in the City.

Everybody volunteered to help rebuild. Everybody. Max may have led the organizing effort, and his newfound popularity within the City helped, but he made it clear with every speech and memo that it was the people themselves that were handling the reconstruction. The official faction leaders all boasted about how much glimmer and resources they were offering for their part, but Max was there. Most days of the week, he was there, on the rubble-filled streets of Peregrine District, loading hauls full of stone, programming glimmer into new materials to replace the broken buildings.

It was honest work, and he loved doing it, loved helping. But his muscles meant he couldn’t do it for long.

That wasn’t a problem for his Exo.

* * *

“I’ll go with you.”

It was dark out. The stars shined quietly above. Luna was dark with its own shadow, masking the machinations of worm and sword from the eyes of the City. The Traveler, aglow with the light of the City below, served as a nightlight. The sound of the City never stopped, only slowed, but it was a welcome lullaby.

Long days meant restful nights. Max enjoyed those, especially considering how restless many of his nights had been before. How he used to toss and turn, awash with fear and anxiety. Questions would swarm in his head—what would tomorrow bring? What new horror? What new apocalypse would chase the City down?

Now, in the arms of another, he thought of what new victories they would win. What new smiles they would bring. What new Light they would shine into the world.

A Guardian’s greatest power, it was said, was their Light. And that was true, Max knew. But he also knew that their Light was not simply the ability to defy death, or summon weapons of incredible destruction, or command physics in impossible ways. These were the flashiest manifestations to be sure. But they were not the most powerful, nor were they what defined a Guardian. The Warlords were defined by their violence. The Sunbreakers by their vows. The Iron Lords by their honor.

But a Guardian, Max knew now, was defined by something much simpler, and much more meaningful.

Their humility. Their humanity.

“I’ll go with you.”

Not ‘I’ll go to battle for you,” not “I’ll go kill for you,” not “I’ll go do it for you.”

Never for.

Always with.

And in that ‘with’ was the Light that would conquer the Dark.


End file.
